


rotting flesh and broken bones

by UnknownNumber



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29565657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownNumber/pseuds/UnknownNumber
Summary: this is a zombie au! there will be angst! there will be violence! there will be blood, gore, blah, blah, blah you get the point. and maybe, if we are lucky, there will be some romance.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 54





	1. bad decision after bad decision

The groans outside the flimsy door made his heart palpitate and his lungs stutter. The occasional thump as one of the walkers fell to the ground, the gnashing of teeth as they found a subject of their torture. It all made Nick uncomfortable. The sounds were always awful, they played while he lied awake at night. The screaming and the tearing of flesh and muscle. But the sight of it was so much worse. The decomposing bodies with dislocated limbs and broken bones sticking through rotting skin. Regardless the zombies walked, as if did not matter in the slightest. Open jaws with frothy saliva dripping down their chins, stumbling throughout the streets with blank milky eyes. The image of it made Nick want to throw up the little food that he was able to get. Which was exactly why he ended up in this situation in the first place. 

Before the entire world went to shit, he lived smack dab in the middle of Houston. Surrounded by apartments, hotels, a college campus, and large hospitals. He loved it at first, but now he honestly wished his father had never wanted to move there. He found himself alone in a huge city that was bustling with walkers, with no shortage of places they could hide. Just thinking of how lonely he was even for a moment made his eyes begin to water. His family had been out of the country when the shit storm began. Nick was forced to stay back home, with his inbox teeming with incomplete assignment notifications and an upcoming final, a vacation was not what he needed. So while his family enjoyed the beaches in Greece, he stayed home in his single room apartment with strained eyes and a notes in piles on his desk. That did not really explain why he was out and about though. 

The first case of the new virus began on the 12th of March. It was declared a national emergency within 12 hours, and a world wide pandemic within 24. So plane flights were canceled, and Nick was left utterly alone in his apartment, just praying that the past day had been a horrid nightmare designed to torture him. But it went on and on, and within the week the broadcasts stopped playing. The last message from the loud speaker in the city had screamed out methods to prevent contracting the disease, before it turned to radio silence. That had been a month ago, however. From the very first message, Nick was sure it was just some huge joke. But he had a little sense, as he began conserving food that very day. By the third week, he had run dry. He starved himself for a week before he realized food was not going to just start sprouting from the carpet. Which put him where he was now. 

A small family grocery store just two blocks from his apartment, pressed in the corner of the staff room with a hatchet clutched in his wet shaking palms. The occasional bump of a walker pressing against the locked door the only thing keeping him from completely disassociating from reality. He had crept the entire way there, staying as far as he possibly could from the stray walkers that had deviated from the large horde just a mile or so off. Pressing against walls and holding his breath the entire way, he had let out a huge breath of relief when he arrived at the door of the store. He had been smart getting there, but he was not smart getting in. 

He had peered through the glass window, glancing around the very small area. There was no obvious walkers in there, so Nick just pressed his hand against the door and walked straight in. Which was his first mistake. He hardly had time to comprehend what happened before he was in acceptance of his death. The store had an alarm system. He sat like a deer in headlights for just a moment before he noticed at least a couple dozen walkers shuffling with passion towards his location. His second mistake was screaming. It was an instantaneous reaction to his fear, but regardless it was hard to ignore. It was if his scream had told the walkers that he was a fresh warm meal waiting to be eaten. His third mistake was running deeper into the store, rather than just running away. He had dived into the store, alarm still blaring, and ran straight towards the back wall, where he could see two doors. On the way, he had slipped on the linoleum tiles, falling chest first into a pool of blood originating from a bearded man just a foot away. A hole put straight through the center of his skull. That had made Nick whimper, but he sprung to his feet as quickly as he could. His third mistake was hesitating on what he should do. The walkers were now just a few feet from the push door when Nick noticed the weapon in the dead man's decomposing hand. The hatchet glinted in the low light, and Nick paused, as if he needed to reconsider whether or not he should take it. In the few seconds of his own moral debate, the walkers entered the store, empty eyes trained on him. He had lunged forward, yanking the hatchet from the other's hands, whispering a small sorry before he began to walk backwards towards the room labeled "Staff" . His fourth mistake was walking backwards. He immediately slipped in the blood again, and the thump of him hitting the ground made any walkers that were not focused on him realize his existence. And his last mistake was choosing the staff room. The door was surprisingly unlocked, so Nick shoved his way into the room and turned the small latch on the door before resting his back on the wood. When he first looked up to see his surroundings was when he saw the walker, now moving towards him. It looked to be a small woman, dawning a store employee outfit with a large chunk of her left arm missing. She was missing an eye, and her jaw looked oddly positioned from her skull. Nick held out the hatchet as if she would realize how ridiculous she was being and back off. Of course that did not work, so Nick watched in shock as she rose to her feet, saliva pooling in her open mouth and dripping to the ground. 

He had avoided her for a good minute. She was slow, and as long as he did circles around her with a quick dodge when she got too close, she would lunge forward and stumble to the ground. But Nick was growing tired, and needed to rest. And the only way he was going to be able to do that was if she was resting as well. The next lunge and fall she made, Nick got behind her and placing a sturdy foot on her back. She tried weakly to turn her head and take bite out of his ankle, but she was no where near capable. Her nails with cracked baby blue nail polish clawed helplessly on the tiles, and for a moment Nick was hit with a wave of empathy. He pressed more weight on her, and gasped in shock as his shoe collapsed her spine, allowing his foot to sink straight through her torso and to the tile on the other side. Nick instantly dry heaved, hit with a huge wave of the smell of decomposing human. But he did get one thing out of the incident. He seemed to have turned the walker into a quadriplegic, as her hands now rested limp on the floor, and all that moved was her degrading lips. Nick stepped back, pulling his shoe out of the woman, now covered in brown blood and decomposing matter. She was still groaning lightly, but not moving. Nick took a moment to take a deep breath before gripping the hatchet as hard as he could and moving back to her. He held it well above his head and brought it down with as much forced as he could, cracking her skull in half like a rotten watermelon. But after that first hit, he could not stop. He lifted and slammed the hatchet over and over into mush that used to be a brain. He did it for his mom. For his dad. For his sister. When the hatchet just started hitting linoleum, he moved to the body. Hacking it to just chunks of flesh. He honestly could not say how long he was doing that, but the thing that brought him out of his stupor was a knock on the door. That is when he became aware of the situation he was in before he got here.

After that is when all of reality came tumbling down on his shoulders. He went stumbling back to the far wall, staring through the small glass window at a walker who was missing half his jaw and his nose. Breathing became difficult as tears began to pour from his open eyes. He could feel his chest constricting, and it made it ten times harder to even try to focus on what was happening around him. It took him a solid ten minutes for the panic to pass, the ache in his chest receding as the tears stopped dripping down his cheeks. He could hear the frenzied scurrying of the walkers outside the staff room, most probably confused at where their prey went. 

Nick took a deep breath, and glanced at the door again, now free from the walker. His hands were shaking and covered in blood, but he was a bit more sensible than this. He needed a way out, and soon. 

Soon came around a lot quicker than he thought it would, and it was not by his own doing. The groans outside of the staff door had seceded slightly in the ten minutes he had sat pondering a plan, but the occasional sound of something falling over told him something was still out there. He had not come up with a single good idea so far when his saving grace came. The grace being the screams of another person clearing running down the street. He held his breath as he heard shuffling feet throughout the store, all heading away from his current location. The screaming was still loud and clear, going further away and then returning, as if they were running around the block. Nick eventually rose from his place against the wall, carefully avoiding the corpse of the woman. He peeked his head through the small glass window in the door, taking a glance around the store. There was only one walker visible, missing both legs and clawing it's way across the slick floors with little success. He watched the walker (crawler?) for a minute, waiting to see if it would give up, but it remained sliding inch by inch across the floor towards the entrance of the store. Nick very carefully opened the latch to the staff door, holding his breath as he pushed it open. The zombie did not seem to take notice, seemingly more focused on the screaming outside. Nick crept behind it, lifting the hatchet well above his head and sinking it into the head of the creature. It stopped moving instantly, but Nick still twisted the handle around a few ties, attempting to blend the diseased human's brain. After a solid five seconds of twirling, he pulling the hatchet out of the leaking cranium and began to pay attention to what the walker was going to. 

In the street was a large horde of walkers, at least four dozen shambling along, all following the sound of a meal. The meal in question was an older man, swinging around a metal baseball bat, letting out a yell anytime he landed a hit. Nick watched blankly as the man backed away from the horde, just to run around the corner of the block. He came around again just five minutes later, looking crazed and still swinging around his bat like a madman. He watched as the man looked around at the horde he had collected. For just a moment, Nick could swear he saw fear in the other's eyes, before he was back to bashing and backing up. Nick saw the walker coming behind him well before the man heard it, and when he did it was too late. The walker sunk it's teeth straight into the poor man's shoulder, cracking it's rotting jaw in the process. For a moment a rush of heroism threatened to make Nick attempt to help, but it was a lost cause at that point anyway.

Nick turned away, doing a light jog throughout the store, listening to the wailing of the man in the street. He grabbed a little carrier bag that was hanging on a rack, and scrambled towards the small food section. He stuffed all the pastas he could find in the bag, dropping one of the boxes in his fear. He looked up to see if any of the creatures had noticed, but they all seemed as if they were completely focused on devouring the man's body. He closed the bag securely, before stepping out of the store door, keeping his eyes on the horde at all times. As soon as he felt he was safe, he ran for dear life. Not stopping to look back. He did not stop running until he entered his apartment building eight minutes later and locked the door behind him.

He sat pressed against the door with the hatchet gleaming in the light, and his new bag of supplies pressed gently against his hip. He could still hear the sound of the man's agony, but a small smile graced his lips. He had food now, and he was alive. He was traumatized, shaking, and running on pure adrenaline. But he was alive.


	2. wait a minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it was a tough job, but it had to be done

The next few days after the small haul at the store, Nick made sure to conserve as much as he could whilst he made a new plan. He was sure the nasty claws of depression were beginning to pick at his lonely brain, but he regardless tried to focus as well as he could. 

Out of his apartment window, he could see a college campus, a hospital, and a two story parking garage. He had just gotten food, but he was not going to risk starving himself again, so he needed a new way to get food, and fast. He reasoned with himself that the college campus had dorms, which was most likely packed full of ramen and other college student snacks. But the chances of the dead being all trapped inside the dorms was way too high for Nick's liking. He was sure the campus also had a cafeteria, but he felt at that point he might as well go for the dorms if he wanted to be risky. A reason that Nick would never admit out loud, was that he would find one of his classmates, dead and rotting. He knew deep inside he would not be able to sink his hatchet into their skull. So his next option was the hospital. But, the hospital was a no-go for sure. It was where all the sick went and infected others, so he was sure there was no way that he would be able to get in and out without dawning a brand new bite mark. So that left him with the parking garage. There was a chance there would be walkers there, but surely not as much as the college or the hospital. On the other hand, he was not sure in the slightest on whether or not the parking garage would provide him with any food at all. All he could do was hope and pray that one of the people in there was not only going shopping before the horde came around, but also had an unlocked car. 

Nick continued to rationalize with himself for a few days as he watched his dwindling supply of pasta. He decided four days after the store raid that he would go to the parking garage, but not for only for food. For a way out of the god forsaken city. He did not own a car, and while his parent's did leave their car when they went to Greece, they lived out of the city, and it would be a multi-hour walk to get there. The parking garage was just a few blocks away, and there was a chance someone who most definitely did not need a car anymore left their car there. But with getting a car came getting keys. Even if a car was unlocked, he was not going to get anywhere without a set of keys. Which led him to phase one of his plan.

The office building just beside the parking garage. Multi-storied with tempered glass windows, Nick was positive there would be plenty of walkers inside, but hopefully less than would be at the college or the hospital. Most importantly, it would have keys left at the desks of those who panicked and ran out of the building. Nick would stay on the first floor, and just get as many keys as he could find without coming in close and direct contact with any walkers. After he filled his bag of stolen keys, he would go back to the parking garage and clear the top floor of any walkers. So that he could stand in a safe corner as he went through all of the key fobs and unlocked the cars at a distance. Once he found a car, he would search the other cars that he had found for food, and drive back to the apartment, where he would collect all he had and get on the interstate, going anywhere but back to Houston. His plan was clean cut and easy, in theory. But he knew damn well that it was not going to be as simple as he wrote it out in his head. 

He spent another week rationalizing all that he could before he went. Making sure he had a bag with a couple shirts inside, so that the keys would not jingle every time he walked. He scrubbed the hatchet clean with an extra sponge he had lying in the kitchen, and made sure the handle was wrapped well in tape and cloth to prevent any slipping. He tied his mane of hair very close to his head, hoping to prevent anything snagging (or grabbing) it and leading him to doom. He wore a puffy coat despite the hot weather, and packed the sleeves full of cardboard and socks. The thought behind it was if something were to god forbid get close enough to bite, he would be able to avoid getting turned into a walker. He even bit himself as hard as he could for good measure, and cheered when he removed all the layers and found not even a dent from his teeth. He made sure to use the bathroom multiple times before he left, because the last thing he was going able to be able to stop for was to use the bathroom. He triple checked everything, and took a deep breath before heading out. 

He was clenching his hatchet much too tightly as he exited the apartment complex and walked onto the street. He was so nervous his brain seemed to have stopped being able to process the fear anymore. He checked all ways as he started down the block, avoiding every nook and every car. He was not in the mood to get his ankles bitten by a crawling corpse stuck under a car. He jogged two blocks and was in view of the office building before he ran into any issues. There was a miniature group of walkers just gathered in the intersection. It looked to be four, but there were two of them a dozen feet away from that group. Nick blinked at the group. There was no way he was going to sneak past all six of them, and he most certainly was not going to kill all of them without making a noise. He glanced around, seeing if maybe there were anymore crazed men running around with baseball bats to save him. As he expected, there was no luck on that, so he needed another way past. All that was around him was some crashed cars, and a dripping fire hydrant. Nick stared at the cars for a second before everything seemed to click. It would be dangerous, to start the alarm on a car. Every walker in the area would come crowding around the parking garage and the office, which would just leave him in more trouble than before. So, Nick backtracked, walking back a block and then a couple blocks off to the side. There was a perfectly good car, sitting unused on the street. Nick debated for a moment if he should just try to steal this car, but there was no way he was going to trap himself inside a car with it's alarm going off in the middle of Houston during a zombie apocalypse. So he walked over (making sure to check underneath first) before he gripped the hatchet tightly in his palms and swung it straight into the car window. Instantly the alarm went off, and it even scared Nick to an amount, as he fell backwards. But he was quick to get up and backtrack once again to the office buildings. He stuck close to the walls and out of easy pathways, watching dozens after dozens of walkers stumble past him to the car. Eventually he wound up back at the office complex and did a silent cheer. Not only were the six that were waiting in front gone, but there were a few walking out of the parking garage as well. Nick grinned at his win-win situation before he started towards the building. 

The glass door was wide open, so Nick did not concern himself too much on the possibility of an alarm, but other than that it looked majorly untouched. He peeked his head in, looking right and left before he crept in. The first floor had a huge empty area, that was obviously once a waiting area and a receptionist desk. A small coffee bar lied against the right wall, and then there was a staff only sign above a door in the far right corner, and a unisex bathroom just to the left. On the far left was a hallway that led to the back, which Nick locked his eyes on as he walked closer. So far he was completely clear, the only sound coming very faintly from the car alarm blocks away. He double checked behind the receptionist's desk, grabbing the little jar of cashews that was resting beside the keyboard before proceeded to the hallway that led further into the building. 

Bingo.

An entire room full of little cubicles full of desks and chairs. On the wall rested a coat rack, which was empty and what seemed to be another entrance to the staff room. Nick checked behind him a few times before he completely stepped into the area. There was a groaning coming from the corner farthest from where he was, so he assured himself he either would not go close, or would go there last in the worst case scenario where he found no keys in the first few rows. The first nook was decorated with images of children, and a few pictures of a golden retriever. The name plate said "Merissa Daniels" and Nick could only assume it was her area. On the desk was a little container of butterscotch, which Nick indulgingly slipped into his coat pocket, and a few granola bars that he stuffed in the bag. In the corner was something that really attracted Nick. A backpack. It was not huge, but it was still much bigger than he had now. He grabbed the bag and backed out, checking the groaning had not moved since he explored the first area before quickly transferring everything that was in the first bag. He quickly returned and got to searching. On the wall was a purse (Nick found it odd that the person would have both a backpack and a purse) that he instantly dug into. Right on top practically glowing in the light from the window, was a set of keys. Nick gently tossed them into the bag, nestling them in between the folds of his shirts that he placed in there. Nick whispered out a "thank you Merissa" before he continued on to the next space labeled "Jonathan Grey" . Nick paid no attention to the pictures hanging up, rather the key fob on the far right corner. It was only the key fob, but that was all Nick needed, so he did the same as he did with Merissa's keys and continued on. He kept on keeping on like that for the next for stations. He thanked every cubicle after he left, hoping that maybe his politeness would help him in the future somehow. Only one of them did not have any keys at all, which made Nick a bit sad, but he just pretended he could not find it and moved on. Three rows down, and only two more to go, he had fished out 12 keys. The groaning was now very audible, and Nick was on a rush of his plundering. 

When he turned the corner, he saw the source of the noise. A walker in the corner, missing both of his lower legs, with a desk chair slammed straight through his mid-section. The corpse did not even look that old, so how a person had enough force to slam a office chair through someone's torso was very impressive to him. The walker was obviously trapped with no way out, and Nick did want more keys, but he was well above his pride, and backed right away and towards the main area again. The main area had not changed at all, but Nick still triple checked the safety before walking through. He would not lie, the staff room was most likely packed full of little snacks like granola bars and instant oatmeal things, but he was well satisfied with what he had, and was sure he would find some stuff in the cars. Regardless, he walked over to the door and pressed his ear against it. There was most surely creatures in there, and so he backed away as silently as he could. The coffee bar though, was more interesting. It was very small, and he obviously was not going to be able to fit an entire coffee maker in his bag, but the multitude of instant coffee and tea bags excited him more. Even when he had found the backpack, he had kept his prior bag, and looked around before he started to put a few coffee supplies as he could in his bag. He very gentle pulled the cabinet underneath open, and cheered when he saw the sheer amount of stuff in there. He grabbed a few of the powder creamer boxes and slid them into his now bulging bag, before grabbing some of the containers of instant coffee and moving on. He had been doing this for well too long, and the car alarm had stopped, so the walkers were bound to start heading back. Nick walked out on the street, checking he was safe for the moment before going into the parking garage. It was incredibly dark in there, and it made Nick very uncomfortable, but he still ran straight through and up the car ramp to the second floor. He stood there for a solid minute, hardly breathing as he listened carefully. There was certainly at least one walker up there, based on the shuffling, but it seemed to be in the far right side, so Nick crept along the left side, keeping his eyes trained on the sounds. It seemed to be a century before he was safely in the corner of the parking garage where he had a clear view of the entire floor. 

There he set down his carrier bag full of coffee, and slid the backpack off his back. Opening the zipper as quietly as he could before he reached in and took out the first key fob. He gently clicked the unlock button, and heard the car directly next to him unlock. Nick sat in shock for a moment, but still inspected the car. He most certainly would not go with this one, as it had some broken windows and honestly was really small. Not big enough to live in ran through his head as he placed the key on the trunk and moved on. The next key fob clearly did not unlock a car on this floor as he heard a beeping from downstairs. Nick held his breath as the shuffling stopped to the right of the garage. Suddenly, a walker crept out, hunched over very oddly. It stumbled crookedly over to the ramp, and fell straight off the edge. Nick could have laughed if it weren't for the fact that it sounded like it exploded on the floor below. Nick clicked the unlock button a few more times, and waited patiently for any more walkers to make their move. After nothing came out, Nick continued forward. After a few unlocking of cars, a truck a few cars away lit up and Nick audibly cheered, slapping his hand over his mouth right after. 

When he went over to inspect it, it was a complete win, all intact and looking quite new. A black truck with a glossy finish and no scratches. A hood over the flatbed, and Nick could see a spare tire peeking out from the bottom of the car. Nick glanced at the remaining fobs but just chose to move on. He did not want anything other than this beauty. He looked through the tinted windows seeing nothing other than a few shirts and what appeared to be a gas can before he deemed it safe enough to hop right in. Which really was not a good move. 

As soon as he sat down and turned on the car, he heard a sound behind him. Nick instantly flipped in the seat, holding the hatchet out as threateningly as he could. His breath was coming out in shudders as he could feel imminent death creeping up on him. The noise settled down for a minute, before a black ball launched straight at him. 

In Nick's panic, he swung the hatchet at the object, but way too late. Instead of hitting the mark, he ended up smacking his own left wrist with the blunt side of the hatchet, causing him to immediately want to curl in on himself. But he could not do that, because the object was now resting in his lap. The "object" Nick realized, was a kitten. 

Pitch black and covered in matted fur, it looked as if it came out of the womb two seconds ago with how malnourished it was. Some crumbs of something were attached to its whiskers, and it had a makeshift collar wrapped around it's neck. Nick sat in shock for a few more moments before allowing himself to pet the kitten with his right hand and inspect his left wrist at the same time. 

His wrist sure was throbbing, but he was still able to move it, so he considered that an excellent sign. Where the hatchet hit was red already, and Nick could sense a nasty bruise was going to show up very soon. He shook his head and returned to the kitten in his lap. If it seemed incredibly weak before, now it looked on the verge of death. It was curled up in his lap, and it hardly took up two hands of space. Nick grabbed his backpack and slid a beef jerky stick out before nudging the cat with it. It looked at him pitifully, and placed one soft paw on the wrapper, as if it was begging for a bite. Nick struggled to open up the air tight package with just one hand and his teeth, but he got it open and threw it onto the passenger's side seat. The kitten stumbled up, following the thrown object and nearly falling off the center console on the way. It instantly dug in, so Nick considered that situation dealt with and turned back the right way in the car.

It was still running from when he got in, and the display told him a number of things. On the cons, the truck was practically running on empty. But on the good side, the car had only a couple thousand miles on it, and nothing else was striking Nick as incredibly wrong. The air conditioner was working on full blast, and when he switched it to heat, it was flawless and quick. No check engine light was screaming at him, and when he flicked the various nobs, it was shown that both blinkers (plus the brights), the windshield wipers, and the windshield wiper fluid were all in check. Nick let out another silent cheer, so happy with his find that he nearly forgot the entire reason he needed to find it. 

The whole zombie apocalypse thing. 

He glanced out the window, making sure nothing was preying on him in the rear view mirror or directly beside the truck before he opened the door and shimmied out. The kitten was still snacking on it's meal, but it looked up at him inquisitively before returning to it's task. Nick closed the door gently, and returned to his previous spot on the corner. From there, he tried all the fobs, exploring a few cars for some things that could be useful to him. He found a clear tube, a window scraper, and a few things of window washer fluid. Along with that came a few thick blankets and some first aid kits, and three empty gas cans in the back of a old looking pickup truck. All of those things he tossed in the back of the truck, excluding the siphon and the gas cans. He knew there was a gas can in the truck, but there was no doubt that with Nick's plan of completely leaving this place, he was going to need more than just one can of gas. 

Nick walked over to one of the cars he had been in before, and popped open the gas and wandered over. The realization that he had never siphoned gas now seemed to come into his mind. Not only had he never siphoned, he had never even seen anyone do it. So with the confidence of a blind man during a driving test he just shoved one end of the tube into the tank and waited patiently. Of course nothing happened, but it still made Nick upset. He moved the tube around for good measure, making sure that it truly was not going to work, before just rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. He needed a new plan, and quickly. Nick was not in the mood to be in this parking garage for three hours trying to get gas. He grabbed the end of the siphon and examined it carefully before going through with his next plan. Blowing on it. He was not actually too sure what was going to happen, but he pressed his cracked lips around the tube and blew as hard as he could. All he received from that was the sound of gas bubbling in the tank. Which left only one option left, sucking. 

Now Nick had heard of huffing gas, and he was not really sure what that entailed, but it seemed like sucking gas out of a tube would qualify. He rationalized that he would only suck for a few moments, and if that did not work he would just move on. 

The siphon seemed to be staring at him on his knees, and he began to feel like the man he saw on TV who had sex with his car. A shiver went down Nick's spine, but he just shook his head. He wrapped his lips around the tube and sucked as hard as he could. Nothing seemed to happen for a few seconds, but he grew incredibly light headed. He kept on keeping on, trying to ignore the feeling that his head was about to fall off his shoulders, before it happened. Gas appeared in the clear tube. Nick immediately removed his mouth and shoved the gas can on the end of the tube, and watched as the gas glugged into the can. Even though Nick was incredibly happy at his success, he felt seconds from passing out at this point. He had checked the gas level on this car before, and it was completely full, but he had no clue how long this thing would work for. Gas kept pouring out of the tube for a while, and in the time the feeling of vertigo passed, leaving Nick bored as he watched has steadily flow into the can. 

That is when the second issue came about. The can was already nearly halfway full and rising quickly, but the car seemed nowhere close to being out of gas. Nick looked between the tube and the can, realizing he needed a plan, and he needed it fast. He grabbed the tube in his right palm as hard as he could trying cutting off the flow. It significantly stopped the flow, but a few drops were still filling into the can. As quickly as he could with only his sore left hand, he grabbed a new can and placed it under the tube, and waited once again. 

Nick continued this process for what seemed like centuries; finding a car with gas, inhaling gasoline fumes, filling a gas can, filling the trunk tank, and doing it over and over again. He was happy to say that after all the work that he did, he was rewarded with four full gas cans and a full gas tank. The rest of the process was fairly easy after that. He hopped in the car, closing the door roughly behind him, before he screamed at the black ball hurdling towards him again. 

He shook off the fear before he put his big boy pants on and left the garage (which was admittedly hard for a person who a person who had never driven a truck). He drove slowly through the streets, back towards his apartment complex.

It only took a few minutes to get back, and Nick lazily parked the truck. He knew he was not going to be here for too much longer. He grabbed the leash of the cat, tugging it towards the building before he stopped suddenly.

Nick glanced at the kitten as if it would be able to answer the question he had for himself. 

"Why did I not just go inside the other apartments for food?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel i am being a bit too descriptive in this story. do you all think it helps to be hyper descriptive of the surroundings and what he is feeling, or should i cool it down a bit?
> 
> all comments are appreciated, even if you just want to say hi :) 
> 
> buh bye!


	3. uh oh

After Nick spent a solid two minutes contemplating why he even existed at all, he finally came back to the reality of the entire situation. The whole zombie apocalypse thing. He trudged angrily up his apartment stairs and into his apartment before he slammed the door behind him and began pulling all of his protective layers off. It was sweaty in his makeshift riot gear, and that most certainly did not help him in taking it off. It took him a hot minute to finally get the extra stuff off, but as soon as he was done he plopped on the ground, glad that it was all over with. As soon as he laid on the ground his companion that he had entirely forgot about launched straight at his face. Despite the fact that this was the third time this had happened in the past few hours, Nick let out a bellow and somehow managed to hit his head against the floor. He rolled his eyes aggressively and glared at the kitten. 

"Lookie here-" The sudden realization that the cat did not have a name struck him quite hard. "Uh, bud. You need to stop doing that"

Of course the only response he got was a blank look and a blink or two. Nick shook his head and sat up from his place on the ground. As much as he wanted to rest, he knew that the sun would be setting in an hour or two, and he did not want to be in Houston when that happened. He gently shooed the kitten off his lap before he proceeded to walk about his apartment. He was only planning on coming in for a max of three to five minutes for the purpose of grabbing some clothes, but now that he was inside a huge wave of nostalgia hit him. Despite the fact that the apartment was now just stagnant air and silence, Nick began to reminisce about his buddies staying up until 4 in the morning to play first person shooters and passing out just to wake up two hours later to go to class. His family all helping him move here when he got accepted into the college, and when they all hugged him tight and promised to visit often. He remembered when a bird went flying straight into his window, and how it took him nearly three hours to free it from the prison it put itself in. Nick hardly realized that tears were dripping steadily down his cheeks until the kitten started to do figure eights around his shaking legs. 

Nick dud a large inhale before he shook off the emotions. This was no time for that. 

He spent the next 15 minutes stuffing as much stuff as possible into his suitcase and stepping over the kitten who seemed to want to be touching him at all points in time. As soon as the zipper was closed, Nick began to head to the door. The kitten seemed content to follow him right out. 

"No bud, I'll be right back." He pushed the kitten gently with his foot, but almost immediately it was back to trying to follow him out the door. "No! You stay in there, it will take me two minutes I promise!" Another push, and another scurry back to the door. Nick sighed. He was talking to a cat. He was sure that qualified for some type of mental illness. "Fine, but if I step on you, then you only have yourself to blame."

As Nick promised the cat, it only took him a mere two minutes to get the suitcase in the trunk and get back to the apartment, but this time, he did not go to his.

Margret and Daniel Smith. An elderly couple that lived on the same floor as them. The apartment specified that no cats or dogs would be allowed on the premises, but everyone knew they kept two cats in their home. Even the landlord seemed to know, but when someone asked about, he just said that they had an exception. Everyone else just figured the "exception" was just the old couple being old and moved on. More importantly, Nick knew Margret very well, and had talked to her at the mailboxes the day the first cases were starting to show.

She had a creaky old voice country voice, but it had a special ring to it that could make anyone feel safe, "You hear the news son?"

"Yeah miss, I ain't too sure what to think of it really." Nick set his attention on inserting the key inside his mailbox.

"Well I'll tell you boy, I think some folks were just lollygaggin' around, and it is really just a big ol' myth." She closed the mailbox door aggressively behind her as she did that. 

Nick slid his mail out of his own box and skimmed over the words, "How does Mister Daniel feel about it?" Nick softly closed the mailbox door and locked it, now devoting his entire attention to the old woman. 

Margret rolled her eyes at the mention of her husband, "he's a big wussy, and he wants to go out to his old uncle's farmhome out in the middle of god knows where!"  
Nick just giggled at that, "Well ma'am do you think you will be following him in that?"

"Well of course! God knows that man can hardly wash his own undergarments, let alone live on a farm!" She shook her head for a moment. "Regardless, I suspect this whole thing that they got goin' on is gon' be well passed by the time we even get there, so it won't be long." She glanced down at the ground. "Will you be stayin' here boy?" 

"Yes ma'am."

Suddenly she dug her hand straight into her bag and pulled out a silver key. "Do you mind waterin' the plants while we are gone? I suspect we will be back before a fortnight, but they still need to be watered." 

Nick had just nodded solemnly and held out his hand. "How often?"

She placed the key in his open palm as she continued, "Just on Wednesdays; no more than a couple ounces."

Nick closed his fist and dropped the key into his pocket. "Do you need the cats to be watered and fed?"

"Nah, I wouldn't leave my babies behind for no one in this world." She smiled, "Well I best be going back up, Daniel'll have a freak attack if I don't show up soon. Thank you Nicholas!" 

That had been the last time Nick had spoken to her. She did not have a cell phone, and even if she did he doubted she would be able to figure it out. But he had gotten at least one thing from it. The key. He held true to his word even when everything really hit, and had watered the plants every Wednesday. He felt it was his civil duty in a way. More importantly, he remembered the two full bags of dry cat food and the three small pallets of wet cat food. He did feel a little guilt about stealing from an old woman, but he doubted she would be coming back anytime soon, and if she did he doubted she would even remember she had the food at all. 

And so Nick gathered the cat food from the apartment, and even took the bowls and cat beds for good measure. It admittedly took him longer than he would like, but he felt it was at least a little worth it. As he turned to exit the apartment with just the key in hand, he stood still and looked at the window sill. There tall and proud sat her collection of plants, lush and green. Nick sighed and turned around, grabbing a couple of them, and strictly remembered how the others looked. He suspected horticulture would not be at the top of his list of "Most Important Things" but he still held the thought that he would find out what the others were and grow them himself. 

That, however was his last trip to the apartment. After he snuggly placed the plants in the back seat, and settled the kitten down with a bowl of dry food on the floor of the passenger side seat, Nick knew it was time to go. Forever now. 

As he drove down the streets, passing by hordes of walkers just wandering aimlessly, he was distraught. Houston was his home, and he would never forget that. But now it was time for a new home. And he was looking for somewhere much different. 

Luckily for him, while the highway was packed full of cars with walkers, the interstate was pretty much clear. Obviously, whoever made it here made it out without a bitemark and had no reason to stop driving. But the interstate was where it got difficult. He had chosen his destination of choice to be in colorful Colorado. He heard that the people there seemed to have a hatred for folks from Texas, so he just hoped those who survived would not mind too much if he pretended he was from Montana or something. But he was not going to Colorado for the people, rather for the mountains. The Rockies were notoriously tall and snowy, and clearly rotting did nothing to stop walkers from well, walking. So perhaps, something like extreme cold and elevation would be able to at least render them slow and disabled. It truly was just a hope. He had never been to Colorado, and really all he knew was that it was most likely the closest state where he was going to find snow-capped mountain tops all year round. 

Issue began when getting there, however. He had not one clue where Colorado was from Houston, and he was not in the mood for driving to all 50 states in order to find that specific one. 

So that is why he just drove a little over two hours straight on the interstate towards where he knew San Antonio was. He figured a city like San Antonio is bound to have a visitors center, and if not, at least a rest stop that had maps. And just before San Antonio is where he found it. A sign directing drivers to a rest stop three miles out. Nick cheered to himself, but stopped when the kitten looked at him unimpressed. 

"Look you do not understand how good this is." The cat blinked at him. "I do not need judgement from you!" Another blink, "Okay look I admit I should not be this happy about finding a place that might have maps, but honestly, I think you should be celebrating too given the scenario!" A small meow. "Oh shut it! I am not going insane I am-" Nick stopped.  
"Oh my god I am have a full one-sided conversation with an animal that can not talk." 

Nick continued down the windy road to the rest stop in silence. There were no cars, and even though it was practically pitch black outside, there were no lights on. Which Nick should have expected in retrospect, but whatever. 

He led him and his partner outside of the car, and quickly inside the rest stop. It was not surprising to him that all he heard were some bugs, but it would have added a little more atmosphere if something else was happening. He did not have any source of light, other than the moonlight, so he walked cautiously throughout the building. And then he saw it, a rack of maps. He instantly ran over, nearly cheering. He only stood there at the rack for a max of thirty seconds before he knew something was wrong. Suddenly, the kitten was hissing, and all the hairs on the back of his neck rose up. 

The cocking of a shotgun. 

A clearing of the throat. 

"What exactly do you think you are doin' kid?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o who's dat?


	4. that is not what i expected

Nick gulped nervously, and when he spoke his voice was quivering. "I was just getting a map, promise!" Nick was not going to risk turning around to look at his threat. His kitten sat next to him fluffed to make it look two times it's small size. 

"What do you need a map for?" Oddly enough his impromptu captor's voice seemed to get softer and a bit more kind. 

Nick had to clear his throat before he responded, "I am taking me and my buddy to Colorado, and I need a map to find the best interstate." 

"Colorado huh?" Nick just nodded quickly. "You know you can turn around right?"

Nick make his movement slow and clear as he turned. 

In front of him stood a man that was maybe a few inches shorter than himself. Wire glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, and his head was cocked at Nick. Brown hair fell down his forehead, but it looked very blunt ended, as if he had cut it with scissors recently. He was gripping a shotgun with both hands, though he had a very neutral look on his face. He briefly glanced at the cat at Nick's heels. 

"Mighty small for a Maine coon don't you think?" Nick took a quick look at the kitten. "What's the name?"

At that very second Nick's brain short circuited. He didn't even know the gender of the kitten and now he was naming it? "Pom!"

Now the other looked very confused, "Pom?"

"Short for Pomegranate!" 

"You named your cat Pomegranate?" 

Nick just give the best poker face he could. The other shrugged after a few seconds. "Well do you want me to check Pom out?" Now it was Nick's turn to look confused. "I was a veterinary assistant a couple hours away when this all came down. Can't diagnose or anything, but I can at least take a look."

Nick knelt down and put a hand on Pom. The kitten was still puffed up hugely. "Sure, do you need anything in return?"

The man sighed. "No, but can I get a name?"

"Nicholas, but I just go by Nick."

"Well Nick, Darryl is here to help you!" 

After that it was as if the mood entirely changed. Darryl gently placed the shotgun on the floor and walked over freely, crouching down to the kitten. "Feel free to find the map you need, by the way". Nick debated leaving the kitten alone with the stranger, but he felt only a monster would murder a kitten in cold blood, so he just turned back towards the rack of maps. 

Nick looked through all the maps carefully, trying to find the best one for him. A large amount of them were centered specifically on Texas alone and the attraction in the state, but a couple expanded to the connected states. One in particular showed Texas and all the major cities, along with a depiction of New Mexico to the North West. Right on top of the depiction of New Mexico sat the letters "CO". Nick shoved a few of those maps in his pocket for good measure and continued to look. The next map he found was just around the same concept, though the other state was Oklahoma. Right on top of Oklahoma sat "KS" and once again, directly next to that, "CO". Nick grabbed a few of those as well and wandered back over to the kitten and the other man. 

Nick sat on the ground just a few feet away and laid out two maps fully, to try and get a good look at his options. He heard a mewl and saw Pom had loosened up significantly and was now playing with Darryl's hoodie string. Nick returned to the maps. Based on the maps alone, going to New Mexico and to Oklahoma would be no fun at all. Even though the maps were severely sized down, Nick knew Texas was huge, and it would take a long time to get there, not counting stops. Nick let out a sigh. Nick just smacked the top of his head with his palm. "Fuck!"

"Language!"

Nick just looked at Darryl. "What?"

"Language." Nick just shook his head. The other crawled over to where Nick was located. "What's wrong?" 

"I just don't know the best way to get to Colorado from here." 

Darryl looked at the papers carefully. "I say you start by going to Amarillo from here. I have done the exact same drive at least four times. Nine and a half hours tops." The man placed his finger on Amarillo. "Just an interstate drive really. That will get you to the top of Texas. From there-" the man pulled his finger from Amarillo through the top right corner of New Mexico and to Colorado "-you can cross through New Mexico or-" Darryl did the same motion on the Oklahoma map, drawing an imaginary line through the little handle of Oklahoma and to Colorado. "Though I can bet it would be quicker to go through New Mexico honestly." Darryl glanced at the ceiling. "Either way you want to start in Amarillo and figure it all out from there. More rest stops along the way will most likely give you more maps that actually include Colorado."

Nick nodded his head at that. "You said you have made the drive before?"

The other man grinned while standing up and going back to his gun. Nick tensed up. "Yeah, my older sister lives there, and I used to drive there before I got over my fear of flying." He shrugged while grabbing the gun again, this time slinging it across his back. That made Nick settle down a bit more. "Regardless, jut follow the signs on the interstate, it's not that confusing." The other man began to walk deeper into the dark rest stop. "You can stay here to sleep if you want. You are the first person to come by in a few weeks, and I wouldn't worry too much." At that, the man went into a door along the back wall. He suddenly stopped. "You got a healthy girl there, by the way. Really malnourished, but I guess I can see why." He cleared his throat. "Though you got her fixed really young, so I am just hoping she was bigger than she was now when you got it done." 

Nick glanced at the kitten. "Yeah, she was. Thank you."

At that, Darryl closed the door behind him, and Nick heard a lock click. 

Pom nuzzled her face against his hand. "Let's go sleep in the car Pom." Even if the kitten did not truly understand what he meant, she followed him when he stood and walked out of the rest stop. While outside, Pom practically disappeared in the grass, but a few moments later she came back mewing. Nick unlocked the truck and hopped in, allowing Pom to leap up before he slammed the door and locked it multiple times. The kitten instantly settled into the cat bed on the floor of the passenger side seat, and Nick reclined his seat all the way down, covering himself with a thin blanket he grabbed from his apartment. "G'night Pom" he didn't receive a response, but he regardless pretended the cat said it back and closed his eyes to fall into an empty sleep. 

Nick woke up hours later to the sun glaring in his eyes and Pom kneading his thin stomach with her paws. The tiny pricks from her nails were slightly uncomfortable, but the overall motion was endearing. "G'morning girl." Pom just mewled back. From there he opened up the door and watched carefully as Pom walked over to the grassy area and did her business. 

From the corner of his eye, Nick saw a Darryl standing in front of the rest stop staring at Pom as well. Nick sighed, accepting that he needed to get up and on the road soon. 

One large yawn and a mighty stretch later, Nick stepped out of the car to meet with the veterinary assistant. As soon as Pom realized that he was out of the car, she was back to practically clinging to his ankles. After a short walk, Nick was standing in front of the other man, who had a loose smile on his face. 

"Guess you'll be on your way?" Nick just nodded in return. The other man seemed to stare at the sky for a few seconds. "Well, I wish you the best on your journey, really." 

Before Nick really even processed what was coming out of his mouth, he had already completed his sentence. "You could always join us?"

That made the man look up. But he did not say anything. 

Nick pointed between himself and Pom, "Really we don't take up too much space and I am sure you won't cause too many issues." 

"Wait you're being serious?"

Nick swallowed deeply, "Well Pom likes you, and you did not shoot me for breaking into your base, so you are on my good side." 

"Do you want something in return? Anything at all?!"

Honestly Nick hadn't really expected the other man to want to leave at all, but he could now sense that it had been a long time since he had contact with another person, and the idea of more contact would seal the deal for him. "I would prefer you don't shoot me-" Nick giggled at his own joke, "-but honestly, you seem like a good partner. I am sure we can make it through this together."

A childlike smile grew on Darryl's face, "Oh I promise I won't let you down! Just please ten minutes tops and I will have all my stuff ready." 

Nick didn't even have time to tell him to take his time before he was off speedwalking towards the rest stop. Pom meowed at him, and Nick glanced over. "Yeah he's a little...interesting." 

Nick waited a few minutes before walking towards the rest stop, where he passed Darryl packing some stuff into a bag. "Is there a bathroom here?" The only response that Nick got was a finger pointing towards a door in the back. Nick used the bathroom quickly, and when he walked back out, Darryl was playing with Pom on the floor. "Are you ready?"

Darryl stood up and looked around the rest stop. He seemed sorrowful for a few moments, but he shook his head and smiled, "I have been here for a long time, and I don't thing I would still be alive if I had not found this place when I did." He coughed softly. "But it is time to leave now, so yes. I am ready." 

The walk back to the truck was silent, and as Nick started the truck. Nick pulled out of the parking spot and drove by slowly, allowing Darryl to take a good look at his now old home. After the man looked away, Nick took it as a go ahead, and started heading towards the interstate. 

"Take exit B when we get there." Nick just gently nodded and merged gently on the interstate. With no cars around, it made it quite easy, and with no cops, Nick was free to speed as much as he wanted. 

And so off they went. Going 90 miles an hour down an interstate at 7 in the morning. The next hour was met in complete silence. All the radio stations had been down for a long time now, so there was hardly even a point in trying. Eventually Nick cleared his throat and saw Darryl look at him. 

"You can look in the glove box for some discs, but I am not sure what is in there." That was completely true. After all, this was not his truck, and he had not even bothered to look for something as small as discs. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the other man opened the box, and grabbed an entire case of discs. "Just choose whatever you want, I do not have a preference." A few more minutes passed, with just the the gentle sounds of Darryl flipping through the book. Eventually he slid a disc into the truck, and some gentle classical music began to play. Nick nodded at the choice. He had been in orchestra for a while during high school, and it was a nice memory to him. 

Again for the next hour, the silence continued between the two men. Just the soft sounds of symphonies playing in the background. Eventually, Nick decided the silence was almost suffocating. 

"Where were you at before this all happened?" 

He saw Darryl gently turn the knob to turn down the piece that was playing. "I was actually moving out to this area, like I said I was a veterinary assistant a few hours from here. Middle of nowhere really. So I was offered a job here, and I was just coming down here to check out an apartment that was close to the clinic." He sniffed softly, "I was actually on the road, taking a taxi back to the airport. The driver kicked me out a couple miles from the rest stop, but I knew where I was, so I just kept walking. There was a couple there when I got there, but they were a nervous wreck because one of the fine ladies had already been bitten just a few minutes before. I think they already knew what was going to happen, so they surrendered their stuff to me in return for-" Nick hadn't even realized the other man was crying until he pushed out a choked sob. "They asked me to end them peacefully, and make sure they were together forever. So that is what I did." Another sob. "After I had dug out a grave for the both of them, I married them." He looked blankly at the trees that were flying by. "I think that is all they wanted in the end." Darryl wiped his face, and giggled as Pom jumped on his lap and nuzzled his chest. "The sweetest women I had ever met, really. I hope one day I find someone that I can love as much as those two loved each other, but I fear it may be impossible." He smiled at Nick. "Do you know what I mean?" 

Nick was in a bit of shock from the story, but regardless he responded. "From the way you described it, I think that would be the best fate to have in this wasteland." 

The next few minutes passed in silence as Darryl seemed to recuperate. "Well how did you get here, other than trying to get to Colorado?"

Nick blinked a few times, trying to think of what to say. "I was a college student, and I lived in an apartment just a few blocks from the campus. My family left for Greece a little while before this whole thing went down, and the cell towers were all down before I was able to get in contact." Nick swallowed deeply. "Luckily, I had just done a huge grocery run before it hit Houston, so I was able to just stay in my apartment for the first few weeks. But I started to run out of food, and I realized that having to scavenge for food in Houston would be a death sentence counting down quickly. So I found a truck and took little missy-" Pom meowed happily from her position on Darryl's lap, "and myself out of Houston." Nick briefly pointed at the other man. "I am sure you can figure out what happened after that, but I just drove until I got to the rest stop and found you."

Silence began to cling to the insides of the truck again, so Nick turned the music back up again. The second movement of Vivaldi's Four Seasons was playing happily. Nick head Darryl sniff once again, before he piped up for just a minute. 

"Thank you for telling me that." 

Nick glanced over before replying, "I return the sentiment."

Again, for the next two hours were met in mostly silence, with just the sounds of orchestra's playing their heart's out and purring from Pom. Nick could feel his attention starting to stray at this point, and he was struggling to maintain a consistent speed. Eventually Darryl seemed to notice as he suggested they switch. 

"At the speed we have been going it can't be more than one hour left, and I promise you I can do that." Nick just shook his head. "Okay, well we should at least get out. Pom here probably needs to do her business, and you need to stretch your legs, even if you don't want to switch." 

Nick considered the idea, before he nodded half-heartedly. He had truly wanted to get all the way to Amarillo in one trip, or at least find another rest stop with maps so they could figure out the best plan to the Rocky Mountains. But he figured it was not a good idea to just go as far as he could and end up passing out at the wheel. On the side of the road, a sign read off that the city of Lubbock was just a few miles off. 

Darryl piped up again. "Let's go there, and see if we can scavenge anything easily. If not, we just leave again. Sound like a deal?" 

Nick looked at the exit coming up quickly. "Deal."

Lubbock was certainly a dead town. Nick and Darryl had split up near the beginning of the suburbs, going inside homes to find some extra supplies. They always stayed across the street from one another, so just one yell and the other could come running over. Now that Nick had exited the car, he realized how much he needed it. His neck ached and his knees were sore from driving, and his mind had grown dull from all the repetitive sights. He had only searched four homes so far, but combined with all that the other man had found, the bed of the trunk was full of extra blankets, pillows, and comforts of home, and the back seat was full of canned good and small household appliances. The most important find, both of them agreed was a portable solar panel. They both had only seen them on survival shows, and honestly was not too sure how it would work, but they regardless packed it carefully in the trunk and moved on. From there, they both agreed to watch out for household goods like laptops, tablets, phones, and chargers. But that had been two houses back, and now Nick was creeping into the fifth house on the row. Even though they both had yet to run into any walkers, Nick's hands were damp with sweat around his death grip on his hatchet. He never released the tensions on his shoulders until he backed out of the house and was at least ten feet away from the door. Of course it was silent as he walked in, and other than the sounds of his own breaths, nothing else was resonating in the house. The smell of rotting food made it impossible to breathe from the nose, and the air was so stuffy it was hard to even get a good breath of air through the mouth. It did not take longer than a few minutes to find the source of the problem. It looked as if the family was having a full dinner when they evacuated. There was a pan with steak that was well past good on it, and a pot of macaroni and cheese. Beside that sat an entire sheet of chicken nuggets and some mashed potatoes. Beside the stove was a few plates set out, two of them obviously made for children. One of them had a steak and some sides on it, while one more glass plate and the children's plates were empty. A brief moment of sorrow took over Nick for just a moment, before shock ran straight up his system. 

A bump from upstairs. Pom was already fluffing up at the noise, and he knew Darryl was not close enough to cause that amount of noise. Nick took a deep breath and crept out of the kitchen and back to the main room. Nothing had changed other than the loud sound from upstairs. He quickly exited the home and ran across the street, Pom on his heels. He ran into the house that he knew Darryl was in, and almost got his head blown to pieces. Darryl stood looking at the door with a determined look on his face and finger primed on the trigger. 

"No! No! It's Nick! Not bitten!" 

A flash of recognition went across the other's face and he dropped the gun. Instantly he rushed over. "What's wrong, what happened?"

Nick felt like a child saying it out loud, "There was a loud noise upstairs, and I did not want to go up there alone without a longer ranged weapon. Nick motioned to the gun and then to the hatchet. 

Darryl's eyes squinted for a moment, before he took another glance around the home he was in and walked towards the front door. "Do you think it was a walker?"

Nick followed with Pom right behind. "I am not too sure, but I do not think it was an animal of any kind." Now they were on the front lawn of the house Nick had come from. As they walked in Nick noticed nothing had changed at all. 

Darryl stood at the foot of the stairs with an unsure look on his face. "Do you think it is even worth it to check?" 

"We will need stuff to make sure where ever we settle down will make a good home." 

Darryl sighed and nodded, taking the first step. Nothing occurred at all. 

Suddenly Darryl opened his mouth and began to speak in a voice just a little above a speaking voice, "If there is anyone up there, please say something so we know that you are not bitten." After a few moments of waiting, he took another step. "There are two of us and we are both safe, and we are not going to hurt you." After that, Darryl turned and looked at Nick with a confused face. 

"I do not know dude, but both me and Pom heard it." 

The other sighed again, as if he really did not want to do this, but puffed up his chest and went up the stairs steadily. At the top of the stairs there was a second living area, and a few doors. 

Nick tapped Darryl on the shoulder and pointed towards the only closed door. It was the room above where Nick was when he heard the noise. Darryl nodded and walked over, gun still gripped carefully in his palms. He knocked gently, and nothing seemed to happen. Then he threw the door open. 

Honestly it happened to quickly Nick had no clue what happened. One moment he was standing in front of the door and the next he was on the ground gripping his stomach. To be fair the pain passed fairly quickly and just left some pulsing. That is when Nick noticed the red. 

"Oh my fucking god!"  
"Language!"  
"Now is not the time Darryl I just got fucki-"  
"Language!"  
"Why the hell are you-"  
"Language Nick!"  
That finally shut Nick up enough to look at his stomach. Bright red, not dark red. Most importantly it was not pouring anywhere, but stagnantly sat on his stomach. He rubbed his finger on it and smelled it. "Paint?"  
"Looks to be so..."  
Nick gathered himself up and stood at his full height and looked at what Darryl was staring at in the room.  
"Holy shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess what they found :D
> 
> also, would you guys prefer 1000 words updates every day, or 3000-4000 word updates every 3-4 days?


	5. well hi then

In the room sat a child guarding a closet door, with a paint gun lodged in his wobbling hands. A green and white bucket hat thrown over his head and what appeared to be a make-shift muzzle wrapped around his mouth. Though he clearly could not talk, the look in his eyes was telling Nick to back away and never come back again. While he sat in silence contemplating how this all came about, Darryl seemed to have already planned out his great idea. 

"Hey buddy, we are not here to hurt you." 

Darryl took one step forward and a blue paint ball splattered on the wall just inches from Darryl's ear. It was clear now that kid was defending his area, not trying to instigate a fight. 

"My name is Darryl and this is Nick." The kid looked blanked at the man. Darryl pointed at Pom, but the child's eyes didn't stray. "And that is our friend Pom." Darryl tried to take another step forward, but instantly the kid had his finger primed on the trigger once again. "Okay, I won't come there. Can you take off your..." Darryl seemed to be just as confused as Nick on the contraption around the child's mouth. "...your mask?"

That seemed to greatly upset the kid, as he brought one thin hand to his mouth as if he was checking it was still in place. After he rubbed it a few times, the hand went right back to where it was before on his paint gun. 

Darryl sighed quietly, before he dropped his own gun. It took less than two seconds for another paintball to come flying at Darryl, this time hitting it's mark directly on his right thigh. Nick could see a cringe of pain flash across his face, but he just sat beside the gun and rubbed his new wound gently. "Is there anyone else here?"

That triggered something. The kid was suddenly shaking his head as if he was having a seizure. His eyes grew wider from under the bucket hat and his hands started to shake significantly more. 

"Are you sure? No parents, siblings, nothing?"

The kid remained steadfast, shaking his head rapidly. 

"Are you okay?" 

That got no response, just a blank look. 

"You look a bit hungry, I can get you some food if you want." 

The kid looked between both him and Darryl, as if he really needed to debate the offer. He squinted before nodding his head slowly. 

Darryl grinned and the kid looked on guard again. "Are you allergic to anything? Nuts, eggs, soy, milk?" The kid just looked at him confused. Darryl blinked at the kid for a few seconds. Even though Darryl did not look at him, it was clear he was speaking to Nick. "Can you go grab one of the little cheerio things we found?" 

Nick looked between Darryl and the kid before getting right out of there. He had no clue what was going on. He was just trying to get some food so he and Darryl did not starve and now there was a kid armed with a paintball gun that was out to ruin all their clothes. Nick stepped softly down the stairs, careful not to cause any creaks, and was completely safe until he reached the truck. Honestly, he and Darryl had practically packed it quite full. It was a large truck, but they had nearly filled the bed of the truck to the brim. Luckily, the small snacks had just been thrown in the back seat, so Nick found it easy to just reach through the back window and pull out a cup of cheerios. 

He rushed back to the house, now less careful of making noise as he identified that there was nothing around, and sprinted back up the stairs. When he creaked open the door, a paintball exploded just an inch away from the top of his head. Nick gasped from fear, before clutching his chest and announcing himself. "It's Nick. Uhhh guy with blondish hair and the cat?"

Just a few seconds later, he heard Darryl mumble out a "Come in." 

This time he was met with no paintballs and easy access. The kid had moved from his sitting position to a standing position in the closet door. He was admittedly taller than Nick had expected, also given the fact that he was young in the face and was slouching quite hard. Nick walked over with both hands up, before he just placed the cheerios on the ground and backed up. The kid carefully unhooked the contraption from around his mouth, hanging it around his neck instead. The kid looked back and forth between him and Darryl as if he was making sure they really weren't going to make any moves, before he shoved the paint gun to the ground and tore open the cheerio container. 

Instantly he started scarfing the cereal down, hardly breathing as far as Nick was concerned. Neither him nor Darryl said anything in this child's moment of peace. Around halfway through, the kid suddenly stopped and set the container aside as if he was planning on rationing it. 

"Did you find food Tommy?"

The kid whipped around to stare into the closet. He glanced at Nick and Darryl before he grabbed the paint gun and stood up like a soldier ready for battle. 

Darryl looked at the kid for a minute, before he started to talk. "We have more food if you two are both hungry." 

Then from the closet a head covered in brown hair came out. A kid who was certainly shorter than the first one, but the look on his face showed that he was older than the kid with the paint gun. He too had a what looked to be a muzzle on, but hanging around his neck rather than on his mouth. A little ram figurine was clutched in his palms. As soon as he noticed himself and Darryl his eyes sprung open and he flung himself back into the closet. The first kid now looked like he was about to start being the aggressor in this situation. He rose to an impressive height, given that Nick assumed he was no older than seven or eight, and began to point the paint gun at the older pair. 

Instantly, Darryl showed both his hands and Nick followed in suit. "We are not going to hurt you or your friend. We are just looking around town for food." 

The kid just seemed to be growing more and more aggravated that the two both stood there unmoving. 

"We have plenty of food, and plenty of space if you and your friend want to come with us." 

That is when Nick started to look just as confused as the kid. "We do?"

Darryl didn't even look at Nick when he responded, "We do." 

Nick was still trying to wrap his head around all his new information when Pom started to walk closer to the kid. He seemed to glance for a second, before he lowered the gun and sat on the ground. He gently reached out one hand, and the edges of his eyes crinkled up as assumedly smiled. After a few minutes of just petting the cat, the kid visibly sighed, before he cleared his throat. 

"My name is Tommy. Tubbo, you can come out." 

The sound of the kid's voice definitely confirmed that he was younger than his height implied. Nothing happened for a few seconds, but soon "Tubbo" shuffled out of the closet, walking until he was nearly hidden by the other boy. The two just stood in silence analyzing both him and Darryl. So Nick took the time to look at them as well. 

Tommy still had the green and white bucket hat perched on his blond haired head, which contradicted the red and white shirt he had on. He was wearing visibly dirty jeans, and his face seemed a bit muddied up. His untrusting blue eyes were a stark difference between the impurities on his face. The other kid was hard to see past the Tommy, but he was still holding on to the little ram toy in his right palm. He was wearing an overly large hoodie that went well passed his fingers. His face looked much cleaner than the others, and his eyes looked almost curious, rather than wary. 

They looked at each other for a moment, before Tubbo spoke up, "Are you really not here to hurt us?" 

Darryl answered very softy when he responded. "Yes really. We only came here to try and get some food. We will leave you both alone if you really want, but we really will take care of you if you want."

Suddenly the Tubbo kid looked at the other. "What if they come back?" 

The taller kid slouched over a bit more hearing that, before he sighed. "Tubbo I do not think they will be coming back anytime soon."

"But Shlatt and Phil told us to return their stuff! What if we leave and they come back and get mad!" 

"Then we can leave a note Tubbo." 

Nick saw Darryl smile out of the corner of his eye. The Tommy kid genuinely seemed interested in joining them. 

"But what if-" 

"It's okay Tubbo, if we really change our mind, you will let us go..." Tommy turned to Nick, "right?" 

Nick just nodded as quickly as he could. Darryl hummed a positive note just to his side. Pom let out a meow as well. 

Tommy crouched down and grabbed his paint gun in his palms. He glanced into the closet before he closed the door. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick note about the two new characters! they will NEVER be shipped at any point in this story, and if i am told they want to be removed they will be replaced as soon as i am made aware. they are not going to be main characters, but they are going to be involved in the progression of the plot further along. thank you for reading the note. buh bye!


	6. stupid, stupid, stupid

After the Tommy kid agreed to come with them, Tubbo easily followed. Both Darryl and Nick agreed to just leave them in the truck with some snacks while they searched a few more houses, and then they could be on their way. Obviously starvation was picking at both of the kids poor brains, as at the mention of food they were beyond happy to just hop in the truck and follow any other instructions given. Darryl pulled out a Tupperware of some foods, and gave both of them a large bag of beef jerky, a fruit snack pouch, and a bottle of water each. If either of them did not like the selection, they did not complain. They just waved at the two men through the window as they left to go get more food. 

As Nick walked to the next house on the street, he could not help but feel a sense of dread. He was 19 for gods sake! He could hardly take care of himself in the first place. Darryl was a good addition to his roster, with his intelligence and quick thinking, but children? The idea that he would just lead these two boys to a cruel death hundreds of miles away from where they called home saturated every thought that he produced. He wanted to try to find a mountain and live in a cave there. Who was to say what high elevation and cool temperatures could do to kids of their size and age? He was not a pediatric doctor by any means, but it did not seem like an easy task for even an adult, let alone two kids who were surely under ten. He pushed open the hanging door with the end of his hatchet as he continued to rationalize with himself. He ceased his thoughts for just a minute as he whistled a few times, and waited for a response of groaning or whining. After he considered the home clear, he got back on his thought train. The kids were surely starving when they found them, but Nick may have just made it 10x worse in the long run. Nick grabbed all the canned goods and some packs of crackers from the cabinets in the kitchen. What if they decided that they no longer wanted to stay with him and Darryl in the middle of nowhere. He did not have the time or the gas to back track for hours down an interstate, no matter how fast he went. So they would either have to leave them on the side of the road with a "good luck" and some food, or they would have to just drop them off in the next big city, which could arguably be much worse. 

Nick shook his head at his own thoughts. Overthinking was always a bad habit he possessed, but the same way that it helped him be safe, it doomed him to not take the necessary risks. He was equipped with a few large tote bags to collect stuff, and the first was already full of food. He had already searched the entire kitchen, and they had tons of blankets and pillow, so the only other place that would have semi-useful supplies to him would be the garage. He so far had only found the solar panel in one garage, but he figured taking three minutes to look through was not going to be a life or death situation. 

Inside the garage it was very dusty, and obviously the electricity had stopped working, as even when Nick flicked the light switch multiple times, nothing seemed to occur. A blue car sat in the center, and there was a few bags of what Nick assumed was lawn clippings in the corner based on the horrendous smell of decomposing plant life. The light from the window showed a few fishing rods hanging on the wall. Nick would have gotten them should they not already have some in the truck. There was a small workshop in the corner, paired with a shelf covered in different types of wood. But the bottom shelf is what interested Nick the most. It was stocked to the brim with gas cans. Even if they were not full, it would give Nick the chance to siphon more gas and get them even further. 

He was careful walking down the stairs, soft billows of dust coming up around his shoes. It was completely silent as he reached the concrete, until it most surely was not. 

A cold and slimy hand reached out from under the car, gripping his ankle and pushing it's oddly soft nails in. It was not a hard tug, but the fear that consumed his mind sent him into panic mode, and he fell to the ground with a thump. Now he was eye level with the creature. He let out a guttural scream, just trying to alert Darryl of his situation. In his fall, he had dropped his hatchet in order to stop himself with his hands, and now it was much to far to just grab. The walker was pulling him closer to it's gnashing teeth, and no matter now hard Nick tugged his foot it still seemed to be winning. His throat was growing sore from his cries, and it was making him more tired that he already was. His ankle was just a few inches from the creature's jaws when he heard the front door slam against the wall and Darryl screaming for him. 

As Darryl ran into the garage, a new issue arose. He was equipped with a shotgun, and at the range he was at, trying to shoot the walker would take Nick's calf out with it, no matter how precise he was. 

"Please, please, please!" Nick was pleading with his teammate as if he could do anything. Suddenly, a damped sound echoed through the garage, and the crawler stopped moving. Both him and Darryl looked up at the source of the sound. 

Tubbo stood in the doorway of the garage, two shaky hands holding a BB gun tightly. Suddenly, his aim went directly to Nick's head. Nick quickly backed away, springing up to his feet. 

Tubbo looked extremely worried, "Did you get bit?" 

Nick shook his head as hard as he could, and shoved his ankle out for proof. The nails of the zombie hadn't even broke skin. The kid then just seemed to break down, shoving his face into Darryl's back and crying. 

"Shlatt told me to never use it, ever! And Tommy even told he to stay here because you had it under control, but I just couldn't help myself. You were so nice to us and-" a choked sob came from the kid's mouth, "-and Phil always told me and Tommy to always help if we could!" The kid peaked his head out from his barricade of Darryl's back. "I really am really super sorry Nick! I promise I'll never threaten you with it again!" As if to show proof, the BB gun fell easily from his palms to the ground below. 

Suddenly, running came from the front door, and Tommy burst in looking crazed. He instantly ran over to Tubbo doing a thorough up and down inspection of the other kid. As soon as he was done, he sighed deeply and put his hand on the other's shoulder. "That was brave Tubbo." The short kid gave a small smile. "But it was fucking stupid!" Tubbo cringed greatly and leaned into Darryl, who wrapped his arms around him. 

"Tommy, I know you are upset, but we are all safe, and I would never let anything happen to Tubbo." 

Tommy glared at the adult, before he just loosened his shoulder and began to talk again. "Well obviously it was not a good idea to search anymore houses, I vote we leave and never come back here." 

Tubbo nodded in agreeance from his position in Darryl's arms. 

Nick cleared his throat softly, "Well I came here for the gas cans..." he weakly pointed at them, "I just want to get those and fill them and then I am on board."

Tommy glared at him more aggressively than his own mother ever had, before he just grabbed Tubbo's arm and tugged. "Get your gun and let's go get back in the truck. You didn't even finish eating." 

Tubbo looked guiltily at the adults before he did what he was told and followed Tommy. 

Darryl stood there in what seemed like shock for a few seconds before he sighed. "I'll get three, you get the other three." he walked deeper into the garage careful to avoid the limp hand. He grabbed on object from on top of the workshop table. "You can use this siphon, I had just found one when I heard you screaming." At that he just grabbed the gas cans he said he would and walked straight out, as if he too was disappointed in something. 

Nick glanced down at Pom, who looked just as happy as Tommy had been. 

"Sorry?" All he got was a disappointed mewl in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw! i had a random thought about this scene (it literally was never supposed to come to life, i just wanted to show the morals of tubbo as it will be useful later.) thanks for reading! 
> 
> all comments and kudos are loved and cherished :D

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to follow me on twitter, go for it
> 
> @surelynotcrazy


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